


Speaking with Silence

by Aariah



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21643189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aariah/pseuds/Aariah
Summary: Svana Liric really isn't having a good day.She really just wanted to visit her dads (they were expecting her) and look what happened. Imperial ambush apparently.
Kudos: 1





	Speaking with Silence

**Author's Note:**

> yo just a heads up this might be a tad confusing writing style wise so I'm warning you now. le miroir by alcest inspired this so you should probably give it a listen (its good I promise) to understand the vibe a lil better.

It was a blur, everything up to that. She remembers the fury, screaming at the damn woman that she had nothing to do with this. Yes, she was crossing the border at the wrong place but it was also a shortcut to her parent's house and she was allowed to be here damn it!

The eyes of the others lingered; this mer who's height rivaled that of the Thalmor guards gathered around Elenwen. But then eyes turned to skin a deep ocher that could never belong to an Altmer. Her furious yelling drew their attention like honey to a fly and she didn't fit into any of their boxes. Never neatly placed, never checked off the list; Bosmer, Altmer, Dunmer, Orsimer. Never. 

Hadvar stumbled, not knowing what to say. Svana can see the emotions warring behind his eyes, wanting to refuse the orders but knowing that that was the sort of order you couldn't actually refuse. "I'm sorry. We'll return your remains to the Valenwood." He glances down, concentrating on the list before him. Fighting the shame pooling in his gut. 

And then the fury grew red hot and then grew even stronger."No, you won't fucking return me to the fucking Valenwood because I'm not fucking from there!" Her voice was still loud, but she's not yelling anymore, voice taking on a dangerous sort of calm. "You'll march my remains down to Falkreath and explain to them why you found it appropriate to murder their daughter. I say murder because I did nothing to fucking deserve this and you all know it. Every last one of you. Kor and Lucian Liric, any of you recognize those names?" 

Her golden eyes pass from face to face, staring and daring. There's mumbling, a few of the soldiers being from Falkreath and knowing that two by those names dwelled just outside of town. They always spoke of their children (A few can recall names, Svana and Ambrose. It was always Svana and Ambrose and it's a difficult thing connecting that information to the face) and they always spoke with pride. 

Maybe this was a mistake, a few muttered. Ulfric Stormcloak just stares blankly at the woman delaying his execution as well as her own. The mumbling waned as the captain gave her orders once more, voice rising above and echoing through the crowd of people.

And then she was kneeling at the block; the blood from the previous sorry bastard sticky against her skin and mingling with her hair. Objectively she knows the tail end of her braid is probably residing on top of the head just inches below her own and she wants this to be over already because the fear is rising ever higher, replacing the fury. And, if this was the end it was a mighty fine one wasn't it? Getting executed along with Ulfric Stormcloak (A right bastard as far as she was concerned.) and that thought is what keeps running through her mind as she stares blankly up at the axe.

She's looking up at the axe, waiting and waiting. Knowing with an utter certainty she was going to die and gods she was terrified. 39 years, 15 as a mercenary and she's still not resigned to it, still terrified of death, look at that. The roar rips her from her thoughts, her eyes from the axe that's being raised slowly and there it was. 

The dragon flying from the mountain and the fear now turns to panic. Then. 

Fire. 

It's a strange thing; being saved by a dragon bringing down fire from the sky. With every shout the thing gave Svana felt something, something nameless in her rise to answer. She's just concentrating on moving forward, following Hadvar. She's decided she likes him, he protested orders as much as he could. Given everything anyway. 

Bare feet pounding on dirt, she has to keep glancing down to make sure she doesn't step on anything too sharp because then it'd all be useless. But with every damn shout the dragon gave that something kept rising up, a tiny flame being fanned into life. It hits her as she reaches the doors to the keep, attempting to open the door with bound hands. Hadvar and Ralof's squabble fades to the background. It hits her with a ton of bricks, this realization rising to the surface. 

The dragon was speaking (of course it was) in a tongue her heart, no. Not her heart; her soul knows but the rest of her doesn't.

She finally gets the door open. Hadvar ends up helping, just as eager to get to some sort of safety as she is. Svana tucks the thought away, somewhere in her brain to be forgotten till the threat of death wasn't so imminent.

"Svana. That's a Nord name isn't it?" Hadvar asks, rummaging through chests as they search for armor. He's chewing the events leading to this moment over in his brain still; trying to find the place where digestion was maybe possible or he could just puke but you can't do that with information and fire burned into your mind. He's obviously clinging to something, something to keep the nausea down. 

The strange mer with a name that didn't seem to fit was at least something to mull over that wasn't fire and burning buildings and bodies. 

She weighs two swords, letting them settle into her palms. They weren't quite balanced in the way she prefered, bordering on imbalanced entirely. Obviously standard Imperial issue; hammered out as fast as the blacksmith could make them Imperial issue. They'd do for now. Hadvar raises a brow, Svana sighs. 

"One of my dads is a Nord. I'm named for his sister. My other dad thought it'd be hilarious. He's generally right." 

"You sure look like you know what you're doing." He'd mumbled later, under his breath as they fought through Stormcloaks scampering through the halls like skeevers. Just as vicious too. Everyone trying to find a path to freedom, only one side could make it apparently. Not the Imperials, more like whoever ended up on side Svana had the best chance (as the torturers assistant soon learned) and she could barely stop the cackle that came bubbling up. 

"I'm a mercenary. Or I was. Don't really know what I'm gonna do if we get out of this though." Hadvar's gaze lingers on her many scars, and he adjusts his grip on his sword. The man looked so young, 24 at most. Worry lines carved into his forehead. Civil war was destructive, tearing apart lives and homes and souls. This whole situation was so stupid but then again there was a dragon raining fire from above so maybe anything was possible. 

They've reached the end of the cave (gods she hates caves so much, almost as much as spiders but there's few things she hates more than spiders) and there's light. That dragon flying away and Svana feels the tug of envy. To have wings, to belong _somewhere_ even if it was just the sky. Wings equaled sky, fins and gills water. Those things were simple, definite. 

"Hadvar, do you know what happened to my armor they confiscated?" She felt naked, she was freezing, her feet not at all accustomed to this harsh of treatment and complaining heartily at the ill-fitting boots.

Hadvar just glances back at Helgen and she resigns herself into sewing a new mask. 

Her bad shoulder complains slightly every time she pulls the cheap bow back to her ear. The blame lay with the snow swirling into her eyes every time she manages to blink it away. Svana releases the arrow and repeats, constantly adjusting her aim to account for the wind. Hadvar had pointed out the barrow to her, expecting her to simply nod and move on. 

He hadn't accounted for Svana loving ruins and running off to it the moment she had proper-ish armor. Whiterun could wait, the dragon surely got enough destruction out of its system and wouldn't attack a small village so soon?

Fighting is familiar, the promise of adventure. Slowly she can feel her brain returning to a settled state, some place past Helgan and maybe after she finishes exploring this ruin she'd feel normal again. So she pulls the bow taut once more and lets the arrow fly. 

It takes but minutes to gather her arrows, replenishing her supply with more found on the bodies of the bandits. Placing one hand on the frigid stone arch her gaze turns towards the forests below, the huge mountain in the distance. Svana swears she sees a dragon. 

Stepping over the draugr she notices a tablet clutched in its non sword hand. It was the engraving that caught her eye and so with a grimace she pries it away. And then the wall, the giant curved wall behind her starts singing in a way that drew her feet towards it. 

She traces the carvings, something in her understanding what it says. The rest of her is clueless, clueless as the singing stops and the word (it was a word, a singular word and it was lovely and harsh and she still doesn't know what it means but it's here for her and how she knows this she's unsure but its still rolling around in her mind and she delights in the taste.)

"Dovahkiin? No!!" The dragon had something akin to terror in his eyes, even as his soul departed. 

Departed from him and into her and gods she felt so alive. 

That word that kept rolling around in her mind- she understood it now and she could only fall to her knees at the. The boundless, the boundless what. 

Joy, that was what it was, it came bubbling out in laughter and the moment the transferring of souls stops Svana opens her mouth and Shouts. A single word but gods it felt the most right thing she's ever done and suddenly so many things made sense. 

"FUS" the guards surrounding her gaped. She doubles into the blood damp grass because she's still laughing and she can't stop. 

"Dragonborn, you must be. You're Dragonborn" The murmurs faded as she Shouts again, voice growing stronger as her mind wrapped around what was happening. What was left of the dragon went flying back a few feet and she allows a guardsman to help her to her feet. 

"Dragonborn, is that's what its called?" Svana Liric asks, still smiling and golden eyes too bright and a tad too dragon-like for the men surrounding her, they back up a step. "Dragonborn. Dovahkiin. Dragonborn." She tastes the word on her tongue, and decides Dovahkiin is more to her liking and nods to herself, still laughing as she sets off back towards Whiterun. 

**Author's Note:**

> Still unsure what i'm doing with this, but it's probably important to note that whatever follows this will have a different tone. Typically Svana is a lot more cheerful but this was also like. Super traumatizing for her?  
> (if you want to know more about svana [here ya go](https://liraeel.tumblr.com/tagged/oc-svana) i love her ok)


End file.
